


There's A Boy Who Brings Me Flowers

by thesoulsailor



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Boss!Louis, Dry-Humping, FashionJournalist!Zayn, Florist!Liam, Florist!Niall, Flower Child Harry, M/M, Top!Liam, body-worship, bottom!Zayn, larry - Freeform, thigh-fucking, ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-04 15:46:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1784527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesoulsailor/pseuds/thesoulsailor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU! in which Liam crafts flower bouquets for a living, Zayn works at a fashion magazine and everybody is scared of Louis Tomlinson, Niall wrestles hoses and Harry wears flower-crowns.</p><p>Yes, I do suck at summaries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's A Boy Who Brings Me Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Ziam Fic Exchange for the lovely [glea](http://dreamyletters.tumblr.com), yay!
> 
> It's also my first Ziam fic and I had a great time writing it, so I hope you like it. 
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> xx, Carly

_**There's a boy who brings me flowers** _  
_**And they are not for me** _

Zayn's heart sank, when he opened the door to his boss' office, clutching the small post-it note one of the too skinny, too blonde assistant's had sticked to his keyboard, while he had been at lunch.

_show at Mr Tomlinson's office ASAP_

Right, no problem. Except this was huge. Zayn had to show at Mr Tomlinson's office. Mr Tomlinson's office at the top floor of the building. Mr Tomlinson's office, Veronica from the reception had jokingly dubbed the dome of Drama, because people either left it crying or laughing - the former considerably more often than the latter. Mr Tomlinson's office, Zayn was entering at this very moment.

"Uh, you wanted to see me, sir?“ It took Zayn a lot not to bow down or curtsy or something.

Louis Tomlinson himself was a legend. Though being only twenty-six years old, Zayn's boss was the editor-in-chief of the Vogue UK. His name was ranging amongst such like Anna Wintour, Helen Gurley Brown and Stefano Tonchi. A stellar achievement.

With his delicate, but curvy physique, the tousled quiff and golden skin - contrasting smoothly with the midnight blue button-down, black trousers and white suspenders, he was wearing - Louis easily possessed the shallow kind of beauty, a business like the fashion industry demanded.

The Tommo, as most people called him, was famous for being ingenious when it came to fashion, with a brilliant eye for the latest trends and developments. That reputation came with a lot of luggage though and Zayn had heard more than one person call Mr Tomlinson a ‘cold-hearted evil bitch'. But Zayn supposed, that was just another sign that Louis had made it.

So he was equal parts terrified and curious, as to why the god of the British fashion journalism inquired to talk to him. It wasn't that often that a simple editor for the Lifestyle section like Zayn got to meet the big boss afterall.

Aiming for an indifferent, professional expression, Zayn walked towards the humongous table out of glass and steel at the far back of the spacious room.

Louis hadn't bothered to look up upon Zayn's arrival, but had stayed perched over the tabletop between them, which was littered with sed cards, sketches and even whole page drafts of their latest issue. The piercing blue eyes of the two-years older man were roaming the chaos with a slight frown. Stifling a nervous cough, Zayn adjusted his glasses and waited.

Right when Zayn's heart was about to ejects itself from his chest and explode against one of the panorama windows, Louis suddenly grabbed two shots of what seemed to be the newest Fendi collection and held them next to his head. Louis’ eyes met Zayn's, causing Zayn’s mouth to positively drop open.

''Which one?''

''E-excuse me?''

That earned Zayn the most impressive eye-roll, he had ever witnessed. ''Which one? Decide quickly. I loathe slow people.''

''Oh, er...'' Swiftly Zayn studied the two photos. The left was a minimalistic shot of a shockingly orange dress, sported by a generic model, porcelain skin, long blonde hair, fake smile, even faker boobs. Beautiful of course, but nothing special. The right picture showed an asymmetric rosé gown, worn by an asian model with matching asymmetric hair. ''Mhm. The right one?''

''Is that a question?''

Zayn gulped, but rightened his posture slightly. ''The right one.''

The Tommo nodded, lips curling into a neutral line, eyes flashing in a ray of sunlight breaking through the glass walls. ''Why?''

''Because the season of colour-blocking is over. Therefore the painfully bright colours have to return to the abyss. Also the model of the rosé gown adds a range of ethnicity to our product.''

Zayn internally clapped himself on the back. He did good. There was a reason he had made it from his school's newspaper in Bradford to the headquarters of the most important fashion magazine in the whole of the United Kingdom.

Thankfully Louis seemed to share his opinion, because in the next moment, he ripped the orange abomination in two halves and placed Zayn's choice in the middle of the the table.

''You're absolutely right! Now that I know you're not a complete retard, I am willing to waste some of my time on your presence. Have a seat.''

With that Louis turned around and strut to a expensive looking leather couch, motioning Zayn to sit down. Hastily Zayn complied, the white leather slightly crunching underneath his weight.

''Tea?'' Louis asked, taking a seat opposite him in a rather uncomfortable looking armchair, that was basically just a rectangular block.

''Yes, please.'' Zayn wasn't sure he was still able to swallow, but it would have been rude to decline.

The Tommo nodded, pressing a few buttons on the iPad resting on the small coffee table between them. They waited in silence, until the door opened and one of the too skinny, too blonde assistants brought in the tray. As soon as the assistant had left and Zayn was clutching his cup, Louis began talking again, blowing over his own tea.

''Now, Mr Malik.''

''Yes?'' Zayn's anxiety made a striking comeback, lacing itself around his intestines, clogging up his lungs.

''I suppose you are wondering, why I asked you to come here.''

''Yes, sir.''

''Well...'' With a sigh Louis set his cup down again, stood up and sauntered to his desktop. A few seconds of rummaging later, he returned and handed Zayn a single piece of paper. Adjusting his glasses, Zayn tried to decipher the messy scribble on it, before looking up again, confused.

''What is this?''

Louis smiled at him, bleak. ''It's a list of orders.''

''O-orders?''

''Bouquet orders.''

''You mean like... flowers?''

Louis smiled at him, eyes hard, quiff stiff. ''Exactly. I need you to find a good florist. And I mean a good florist. I don't want the cheap stuff one can buy in the next supermarket. I want real flowers. Flowers that smell and shit. Price doesn't matter.''

The obviously was intended and Zayn knew most people would've been irritated or even annoyed by the haughty tone to Louis' voice, but somehow Zayn wasn't.

''A florist, alright, I can do that. No problem.'' Why?, Zayn thought and after a moment he asked.

''Mr Tomlinson?''

''Yes?''

''Why?''

Louis smiled at him close-mouthed, shrugging. ''Mr Malik, you seem like the kind of lad who doesn't ask questions.''

Zayn took the hint and nodded, standing up. ''Alright, sir. I will begin with the search right away.''

''Delightful. From now on I want a flower-bouquet on this very table every day at five, alright?“

''Alright.“

Louis stood up and Zayn followed suit, the grip of Louis hand shaking his' firm and surprisingly warm.

*

The first thing Zayn did, when he returned to his desk, was to open google and search for 'flowers london'. Unsurprisingly. that got him about a fuckton of results, so he changed his game plan, searching for 'organic florists london' instead. This time, there were lesser results and Zayn clicked through a collective of florists, before he found the one: _Higgins Flowers and Garden._

Smiling, Zayn clicked on the _About Us_ and was met with a collage of pictures, that were showing mainly flowers, garden devices in display and a skinny blonde lad with sharp blue eyes and an infectious smile, who was wrestling with a hose.

At the bottom of the page Zayn found a short introductory paragraph. Apparently _Higgins Flowers and Garden_ was a small delivery business, located only a few kilometres outside of London, specialised on the growth of traditional non-fertilised flowers and plants.

"Perfect“, Zayn thought and pulled out his phone from the back pocket of his dress pants, already unfolding the list of orders.

**  
  
**

**_There's a boy who brings me flowers_ **  
**_But it's not the flowers I see_ **

Zayn spotted him the moment, the elevator doors opened. There was no need to search the extensive entrance hall. With his heavy leather boots, the stained blue jeans and hideously ugly mustard coloured vest, the delivery guy stood out. A lot.

Weaving his way through the people crowding hall, Zayn made a beeline for the last reception desk on the right, where delivery guy was talking to Zayn's favourite receptionist.

"Thanks, Veronica. He's here for me.“ Shooting her a blinding smile, Zayn fiddled the credit card, Mr Tomlinson had sent his way, out of the pocket of his dress pants, before looking up and... oh. _Oh._

There was hair in this nameless colour between blonde and brown, shaved into a mohawk. There was tanned smooth skin. And there were deep deep brown eyes in the colour of honey, staring back at him, the skin around them crinkling, when delivery guy's full pink lips distorted into a genuine smile.

Maybe it was because it had been a long time since Zayn had last seen a genuine smile – a side effect of working his job - , but somehow it made his heart stutter, his stomach weirdly clenching.

"Hi, are you Mr Malik? Order, I quote: ' _Forever and always_ ', no specifications?“

There was something helplessly endearing about the way - a quick glance to delivery guy's name tag – _Liam_ , Liam spoke, a tiny dimple destroying the otherwise impeccable symmetrics of his face, lineaments around his mouth deepening.

"Yeah“, Zayn inhaled. "Yeah, that's it.“

"Mental!“ Liam let out a relieved huff and accepted the credit card with a lick of his lips. Zayn used the time Liam spent dragging it through the clunky reader, dangling from his belt, to stare at Liam's throat, having spotted a small birthmark. A small beep announced that the transaction was successful. With a grin, that turned his eyes into slits, Liam handed him the humongous bouquet.

"Perfect. There you go. One bouquet, size large. Tea roses and stargazer lilies, signifying _always_ and _ambition_.“

It took Zayn more effort than it should to drag his glance away from Liam's face and instead focus on the bundle of white and pink flowers in his hands. "It's beautiful.“

When he looked up again, Liam was beaming at him, a distinct blush on his cheeks. "Thanks! I crafted it myself.“

"Well, you did good.“ Zayn shrugged awkwardly. Why was his heart pounding so fast? And why was he sweating? God, what was happening?

"Thanks, again, haha.“ Liam gave him another brilliant smile. Another quick lick of his lips and he turned around and marched back to the revolving door. "See you tomorrow then!“

"Yeah, see you.“ Zayn mumbled after him, even though Liam had already left the building. When he turned around it was to be faced with a snickering Veronica.

"What?“

"Nothing, nothing.“ She smirked and returned her attention to the sheets in her desk.

Rolling his eyes, Zayn tightened his grip around the bouquet and stalked back to the elevators.

*

Okay, so maybe Zayn had cut his lunch short today to check on his quiff in the small restroom on his floor. And righten his tie. And make sure he looked presentable in general. And if that just so happened to be the case, then it was definitely because he worked at a super prestigious, super pretentious fashion magazin. That had nothing to do with a certain puppy-eyed florist with obscene broad shoulders. And even if it would have, Zayn was cool. Cooler than cool. Cool as a cucumber, one could say.

“Holy motherfucker!“

“Hi!“

Clutching his heart, Zayn gaped at the man standing next to his desk. He shared the cubicle with another lad named Josh, but luckily his co-worker was still at lunch.

“Sorry, the receptionist told me to come up here.“

 _Veronica._ Zayn would kill her. Murder her with her own six inch heels.

“No... problem.“ Zayn breathed out, once his heart started beating again.

Cool as a cucumber, right. “Ehh… thanks... for... making the extra way.“

“No problem.“ There it was again, that damn smile. All crinkly eyes and sunshine. Zayn felt himself getting a sunburn. Several seconds of Liam grinning and Zayn just staring later, Liam eventually shook his head slightly, averting his eyes to the flowers, he was holding.

“Anyways, yeah, here you've got the order of the day. I quote: _'Next to you_ ', no specifications.“

Carefully Liam handed over the humongous bouquet, consisting of round pink flowers mixed with white ones, that looked like somebody had splattered blood on them.

“This time I chose pink camellias and striped carnations. Pink camellias express _longing_ and striped carnations say _'I wish I was beside you_ '.“

Hypnotised Zayn watched the way Liam spoke. Zayn wanted to stretch out his hand and trail the happy curve to Liam's lips that became prominent when he talked about his work, the unmissable glint of pride in his eyes.

“Perfect.“

Liam cocked his head to the side, interrupting his own speech. “What?“

“Oh.“ Hastily Zayn cleared his throat. “Perfect. The flowers, I mean. They're perfect. Thank you.“

_Stop talking, Malik._

“Why thank you.“ Liam blinked happily, running a hand through his mohawk. “Your orders are my favourites, you know. Because they are so vague. I can do whatever I want.“

Liam laughed and Zayn wanted to ravish him. Slowly he took a step back. Then he swerved around Liam in a wide circle. Gently he laid the flowers down on his desk.

“You're welcome, Liam. See you tomorrow.“

Zayn didn't look up, when Liam said his goodbyes and left the room.

*

“Yo, Malik, come here and help me push this little prick off his high horse!“

“Ahaha, there goes your defense, you wanker! You owe me ten quid!“

It was a big concession to Zayn's chosen family, that Zayn felt better the moment he closed the door to their flat behind him.

“Accept it, Danny. Ant's better at Fifa than you.“ With a deep sigh Zayn slumped down in the armchair.

“Woah, you alright mate?“

“Yeah, what's wrong?“

Of course they knew. They always knew.

Preparing himself for the inevitable _Riach We-Are-Your-Brothers-You-Can-Tell-Us Inquiry_ , Zayn let his eyes flutter close. A second later the artificial cheering from the TV broke off and the smell of Danny's cologne filled up his senses, while Ant's sock-clad feet pattered off into the kitchen. Another few moments later and Zayn was dragged onto the sofa, sandwiched between the two other men, Ant pushing a cold Becks into his hand.

“Tell us.“

Zayn groaned. “Don't do that, being all synchronised and shit. It's creepy. Like those twins from that Jack Nicholson movie.“

“Please.“ Ant rolled his eyes at him, while Danny muttered. “The shining is a classic.“

“Anyways, tell us.“

“Yeah, tell us what is bothering you, bro.”

Zayn couldn't resist the urge to roll his eyes. “Fine. There is this guy...“

“Oh my god, no way!“

“Zaynie!“ Scandalised Danny clutched his heart.

“Oh sod off, both of you! I don't need this.“ He was about to jump off the sofa and stomp off into his room, when Ant slung an arm around his chest and Danny pressed him back down.

“Slow down, mate. We’re sorry, alright? In all seriousness: Do tell.”

Instead of answering immediately, Zayn took a big gulp of his beer and slowly set it down on the  couch table. “Fine, so there is this guy at my work. well, not really my work. He’s like a delivery guy, okay? For flowers.”

“Flowers?”

“Yeah, that thing I have to do for my boss. The mysterious bouquet orders, remember?”

“Ah, yes that Timothy guy made you do that, right?”

Zayn suppressed another eye-roll. Danny and Ant’s knowledge of the fashion industry was about as deep as the nearest puddle.

Not that he complained. When he had told Danny and Ant in seventh grade, that his dream was to work for Vogue, they had not once laughed at him. They had still loved him, when he told them he prefered boys over girls and became his new family, when his father didn’t. Zayn loved his chosen family unconditionally and wouldn’t put them down, just because they had other interests or couldn’t remember Louis’ name.

“Yeah, that one. Anyways the delivery guy. Basically he comes around every day to bring me the flowers and… fuck, I don’t even know. He’s like really hot and nice? He has this kind of purity to him like a saint or man, I don’t know, he just seems like a fucking good human being? Who crafts flowers for a living and spends his free-time helping old nan’s over the street.”

“Sounds like a wimp.”

“Fuck you, Danny.” Zayn and Ant both snapped at the same time.

“Alright, alright, I get it, he is all nice and shiny. Go on.”

“I may or may not be in love with him?” Zayn snorted to himself. “Which is ridiculous considering the fact, that, you know, I have only met him twice and… I just don’t know what to do.” Helplessly Zayn flopped to the side and curled into a ball. He let Ant pet his hair, while Danny hummed, indicating he was pondering.

“Oh and also he makes me smile.”

Ant gasped at that, while Danny jumped up, building himself up in front of them. “Stop it, Zayn!”

“What?” Confused Zayn blinked up at the other man.

“Dafug?” Ant chimed in.

“Don’t ‘dafug’ me, Ant. In fact, shut up the both of you and listen! Zayn!”

“Yes?”

“So proper like this lad, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“And you want to be with him? Even at the risk of possibly scarring me and Ant for life?”

Zayn grinned. “Absolutely.”

Danny grinned back. “Great! Then I have a gameplan. Ant, turn off the Xbox and get me my phone.”

“Eh, get it yourself?”

“Useless, the both of you.”

*

“So, you want to woo a boy?” Sweetly the girl popped her bubble gum at him, curling a bright pink strand of her around her finger. _Perrie_ read her nametag. Unable to speak, Zayn just nodded. 

“Do you think you can do something for him?” Ant asked. Danny had disappeared with his girlfriend, a friend of Perrie’s, in the back of the shop, as soon as they had stepped inside.

“Oh, darling, of course I can.” Perrie winked at Ant before she turned back to Zayn, eyeing him thoroughly. Eventually she nodded, satisfied smirk on her purple lips. “Yes, I know what we’re gonna do. Stay put, boys. I’m gonna be right back.”

*

Zayn had just returned from his lunchbreak, when Liam entered Zayn’s cubicle the next day, flowers in hand, jubilant smile in place.

“Hey, mate! How-” Liam stopped short, full lips distorting into a wide _O_. The other man stared at Zayn for a solid thirty seconds, before he seemed to realise what he was doing and broke out into a coughing fit, cheeks flushing red.

“Sorry, sorry.” He wheezed out as soon as was able to breath again..

“No problem, Leeyum.” Zayn smirked at him, before propping his chin on both hands, looking up at Liam through his lashes. “Do you like it?”

Liam’s cheeks turned another few shades darker, before he stumbled out his answer. “Eh, yeah. You look really good.  I-I mean it looks really good. I mean…yeah. I like it.”

“Ah, thank you, Liam.” Zayn fanned his hand in a flattered manner, then he neatly changed the subject. “So tell me, what are the flowers of the day?”

Immediately Liam perked up: “You’re really interested?”

Zayn wet his lips. “I am interested.”

Liam visibly swallowed, before he slightly shook his head and looked down at the flowers in his hand. When he looked up again, the jubilant smile was back. “Today I chose daffodils and white carnations. The daffodils are the yellow ones, you may know them as narcissus?”

Zayn nodded, motioning Liam to go on.

“The white carnations stand for _remembrance_ and the daffodils stand for _chivalry_ , so it’s like a nice, elegant “I’ll remember”, which fits the order of the day: _Never forget_.”

“That’s really clever, Liam. I am impressed.”

Liam beamed at him, head jiggling and eyes crinkling into happy slits. Zayn stood up and made sure their fingers brushed, when he handed over Louis’ credit card.

As soon as the the reader gave the familiar beep, Liam handed over the flowers.   
“Alrighty. See you tomorrow, Mr Malik!”

“I can hardly wait!” Intentionally coincidentally Zayn ran his hand down the other man’s whole back as he lead the few steps out of the cubicle and onto the busy hallway.

“Oh and Liam?”

Liam turned around so fast, Zayn thought he must’ve gotten whiplash. “Yes?”

“Call me Zayn. I think that’s appropriate considering we’re seeing each other every day.”

Again with the happy crinkles. “Zayn. Alright, Zayn. Bye!”

“Bye, Liam.”

As soon as Liam was gone, Zayn sprinted back to his desktop and pulled a small hand mirror out of the top drawer. Nervously he checked on his quiff. His silky raven hair was now interrupted by a three-finger wide, bright blonde streak. Zayn hadn’t been sure how he felt about it at first, but now he was more than satisfied. It had served it’s purpose to catch Liam’s attention wonderfully.

**  
  
**

_**There's a boy who brings me flowers** _  
_**Different everyday** _

The next few weeks were a blur of his usual work, preparing the big summer issue and Liam. Liam, Liam, Liam. Everyday, exactly ten minutes after his lunchbreak, the florist would show up with a bouquet in hand - always beautiful, always matching Louis’ orders impeccably -  and his goddamn jubilant smile, that somehow and at some point had become the best part of Zayn’s day. And Zayn did try really hard to get that smile as often as he could, which was - thanks to Liam being eminently susceptible to Zayn’s attention - almost always successful. The only problem was, that Liam never returned Zayn’s flirtation attempts and Zayn had no idea, if Liam was really _that oblivious_ , just flattered or truly not interested. After having spent a few evenings drowning his worries and frustration in alcohol, Zayn had eventually decided to handle the outcome of his overtures like he handled everything else in his life. Hoping for the best, prepared for the worst.

That didn’t mean Zayn had an infinite amount of patience though and after weeks of painful pining, Zayn figured it was time to ask Liam out. Funnily enough, you could learn a lot about a person through a months worth of three minute conversations and Zayn actually did know quite a lot about Liam by now. From Liam’s favourite colour (a bright almost red orange like hummingbird hyssops - that had had something to do with an order called _Like a bird I’ll return_ ) over how he liked his coffee (milk, no sugar) to Batman being his favourite superhero. Especially the latter had made Liam’s eyes light up with excitement when Zayn had asked and because of that, right now there were two tickets for _The Lego Movie_ in the backpocket of Zayn’s dress pants, just waiting to be pulled out along with an invitation to a movie date.

“Again, they’re so beautiful, Liam. You’re such a talented florist.” To put a little more emphasis on his statement, Zayn shook the bouquet in his hand.

“Thanks, Zayn.” Grinning Liam rubbed the back of his head. “It really means a lot, when you say stuff like that, haha.”

“Of course.” Now was the moment. “So tell me…-”

“MALIK!”

 _Shit_. Letting out an internal groan, Zayn uncurled his fingers from around the tickets and let his glance wander behind Liam’s back.

 _Shit the second_. Louis was striding towards him from the other end of the hallway, a distinctly murderous look in his eyes.

“Hey, babe, stay put for a moment yeah?” Zayn didn’t even got to savour the flustered blush on Liam’s cheeks, because Louis had almost reached them, brows furrowed. Hastily Zayn tightened his grip around the flowers and met Louis the rest of the way.

“Malik, there you are.” Louis’  voice was unnaturally quiet and distinctly murderous.

“Good afternoon, sir. Here are the flowers of the day.”

It was then, that Zayn noticed the disheveled state of Louis’ hair and the pronounced tinge to his bloodshot eyes. Not to mention the crinkly state of his clothes. Louis Tomlinson looked bad.

Still better than about ninety percent of the people around them and more fashionable than all of them, but something was definitely off. Zayn was about to ask, but before he had even been able to utter the first syllable, Louis had already ripped the bouquet out of his hands, flashed him a mirthless grin and taken off into the opposite direction.

Flabbergasted Zayn stared after him before he turned back around, just to find Liam gone too.

 _Shit the third_. With a deep sigh Zayn walked back to his desk. He startled though, when he found a single yellow chrysanthemum lying on his table. Zayn only pondered for a moment, before he shrugged and slipped it into his bag. One missing flower, he figured, wouldn't make a difference at the size of Louis' bouquet.

*

It was only when he was already curled up in bed that night, the chrysanthemum in a vase on his desktop, illuminated by the pale moonlight, that Zayn realised, the flowers of the day had been lilies.  

**  
  
**

**_There’s a boy who brings me flowers_ **  
**_But flowers do decay_ **

The weird feeling started when he returned to his desk the next day and found another post-it note stuck to his computer screen.

_Someone’s in the reception hall for you, V_

Alright. Unusual, but alright. There were about a thousand possible reasons Liam hadn’t come up today. No sweat.

*

Sweat. Hydrosis. DEHYDRATION.

Speechless Zayn gaped at the scene in front of him. There was a man standing in the entrance hall. He was skinny, with peroxide blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, one arm propped on Veronica’s reception desk, the other holding a humongous bouquet out of roses. Blondie was wearing a mustard-coloured vest. He was not Liam. Feeling his heart beating against his ribcage, Zayn walked up to him.

“Oi, whassup, mate? Are you Zayn?” Whirling around, Not-Liam grabbed his hand and shook it eagerly, eyes twinkling, voice - laced with an irish accent - easily rumbling over the other conversations going on in the room. “I’m Niall, _Higgins Flowers and Garden_ … eh wait a minute I lost the damn paper.”

Grinning Still-Not-Liam let go of Zayn’s hand in favor of rummaging through the pockets of his trousers. “Ah, yes, there it is! Uhh… _For a loved one_?” Pushing up the bouquet so it didn’t slide from his arm, Niall squinted at the wrinkly paper. “I quote: Red roses and red tulips... uh some poetic explanation blah blah, basically both flowers stand for love. Here.”

With a small smile on his lips, Niall handed him the bouquet of the day and waved as he left the building.

“Zayn?” He didn’t move. Veronica’s voice was soft and hesitant to his right. “Are you alright?”

Zayn slightly shook his head, fixing his gaze on the flowers in his hand. “I just need to… I’m gonna...”

Feeling his eyes burn, Zayn turned around and strode back to the elevators. He nearly broke his finger, when he hit the elevator button.

*

He entered Mr Tomlinson’s office with a firm knock, the bouquet cradled on his arm like a baby. Louis was sitting behind his desktop, phone jammed between his head and shoulder. Glancing up from his computer screen, Louis waved Zayn in, giving an affirmative sound to whatever the person on the other end of the phone was saying.

Careful not to make any noise, Zayn tip-toed to the middle of the room and placed the bouquet on the coffee table. He and Louis exchanged a quick nod, then Zayn made a beeline for the door, the “Thanks, Malik” nearly cut off by the closing of the door.

*

Liam spotted him the moment the high tingling of the bell above the door resonated through the main room. It was friday night and Niall had left about an hour ago, leaving Liam alone with the plants. There was no need to search the extensive main room, because with his impeccably styled hair, smart clothing and exquisite features, the customer stood out. A lot.

„Zayn, what are you doing here?“

Fuck, he looked so good in his fancy clothing. Though Liam was pretty sure the ochre jumper Zayn was wearing alone was worth more than Liam's complete wardrobe. Not that Zayn was in need of nice clothing. He would have been stunning in a potato sack.

„Liam.” A look of determination in his eyes, Zayn marched towards him. As soon as there were only a few centimetres of space left in between them, Zayn came to an abrupt halt, lifting his finger and pinching Liam in the chest. “Fuck you!”

Okay, well, Liam had been greeted worse.

“Nice to see you too, Zayn. What are you doing here? We’re closed by the way.”

The air around Zayn seemed to be charged when he narrowed his eyes at Liam. “You didn’t bring me my flowers today.”

“That’s a really good observation of yours.”

“Liam…”

Liam huffed. He knew he behaved like a proper arsehole right now, but hey, it wasn’t like Zayn was a gigantic one himself. “What? What do you want? How could I possibly help you, huh?”

A few seconds long Liam thought the other man would punch him. What Zayn did instead hurt even more.

Without a warning Liam was pulled in, soft lips crashing hard against his own. For a moment Liam was too stunned to react properly, but eventually he felt a swooping sensation rush through his body, like he had missed the last step of the stairs, making his mouth drop open and his knees yielding under him. Zayn didn’t even let their mouths disconnect, simply sinking to the ground with him. The tiles of the floor were warm against Liam’s back and Liam had never been so thankful for the underfloor heating Paul had installed last winter. Zayn moaned, kissing down his throat, the sensation enough that Liam felt himself harden.

 _Fuck._ Liam felt how the heat making his blood boil turned into a different kind and for a moment Liam thought of stopping. Thought of the fact, that they were in the middle of the perennial section and he had sworn to himself to never look at Zayn again. Thought of the way, Zayn was straddling him, beautiful, divine, ridiculously out-of-Liam's-league Zayn, who had a boyfriend he loved so much, he ordered him flowers every day. A boyfriend by the way, who was definitely capable of murder, judging by the one time Liam had seen him.

But then there was Zayn panting hot and wet in his ear, bending down for a long needy kiss and Liam stopped thinking altogether. Frantically he pulled the damn jumper over Zayn's head. Having neither the patience nor the ability to unbutton the shirt Zayn was wearing under it, Liam ripped the button-down apart and threw it over his shoulder.

Zayn gasped. „That was Armani.“

„I don't give a shit.“ Pushing the other man down, Liam planted himself on Zayn's groin, placing open-mouthed kisses all over Zayn's exposed torso, tracing the ink there with his tongue. If he was doing this, he might as well enjoy it.

Zayn let out a high-pitched whimper in response, burying his nails in Liam’s sculp and pulling his head up to kiss him again.  

„Wanted this from the moment I saw you.“ Zayn muttered in his ear when they broke for air. „So ahh badly.“

Liam couldn't do much more than utter a few incoherent syllables in response as Zayn's hands wandered to his bicepses. Liam made sure to flex them a little, as Zayn flipped them over again. Their mouths connected automatically, tongues sloppily licking into each other's mouths. Zayn tasted like green apples, mints and tobacco. Liam tried hard to memorise the taste, wanting to remember it after this was over and he would be a homewrecker.

They found a rhythm easily - easy like they always had been - Zayn grinding down on him and Liam coming up to meet him. Liam raked his hands through Zayn's hair, forcefully destroying the quiff, wanting to destroy Zayn instead. How could Zayn do this to him? How could Zayn take Liam if there was no space for him to be taken to? Panting, Liam pressed at the stretched fabric covering Zayn’s boner.

„Fuck Liam!“ Zayn coming with a shout and Liam's name on his lips was nearly enough to send Liam over the edge himself, but he held himself together. Not yet, not yet. Pressing their mouths together once more, Liam ripped the smaller boy's fly apart, no time for the complex three button construction. He let himself fall back in order to shimmy out of his jeans, Zayn collapsing on top of his chest. As soon as his cock was free, he returned to his sitting position.

Zayn, still shaking through his aftershocks, let himself be manhandled without protest. Liam gripped his hips so hard, Liam was sure he would leave bruises - _explain that arsehole_ \- and flipped Zayn around. With a deep inhale he slung one arm around the other boy's chest, pulling Zayn's dress pants and briefs down with the other hand.

„No lube. M'gonna fuck your thighs.“

Instead of an answer Zayn started nibbling on his jaw and throat, one hand on the ground for balance, the other pulling at Liam's nape demandingly. Liam hoisted Zayn up and lined himself up. With a sigh of relief he let Zayn slump down on him and everything became sweat-slick tightness.

In desperate need to come right now or else his brain would explode, Liam frantically slammed in and out of the space between Zayn's thighs, the slapping of Zayn's balls against the tip of his cock creating white spots all over his vision. The other boy's thigh muscles were clenching around him and after what felt like seconds and hours at the same time, Liam finally came, biting down hard on Zayn's naked shoulder.

„How much time?“ Zayn’s voice was weirdly fuzzy. Liam blinked a few times, the edges of his vision going blurry, while the aftershocks of his own orgasm turned his muscles into jelly. He collapsed on his back.

„Enough, enough.“

*

Zayn was awoken by a disembodied shout, immediately followed by „Oh my god, Liam! Ye should've warned me, ye cunt!“, uttered in a bright irish accent. _Niall_ , Zayn recognised.

The body underneath him stirred, but Zayn digged his nails in Liam's shoulder in protest. Pressing his eyes shut even further, Zayn tried to make himself as heavy as possible.

„Sorry, Ni.“ Liam's ribcage vibrated as he laughed apologetically, starting to pet Zayn's hair.

„Yeah, yeah, whatever.“ Niall muttered and the sound of squeaky trainers walking off resonated sharply against Zayn's skull. „I'll be in the break room, calling my therapist.“

„Love you!“ Liam called after Niall.

„Too, fucker.“ Came the faint answer, before a door was slammed shut.

Scandalised Zayn lashed out and slapped Liam on the chest.

„Ow! What was that for?“

Pulling his upper body up as graceful as possible, Zayn looked down on him. “You don’t get to say ‘I love you’ to another, man, when I’m right next to you. Especially not when we had sex last night.”

Liam snorted, which - what the fuck? “Yeah right, you’re the one to talk.”

Brows furrowing, Zayn cocked his head to the side: “How do you mean?”

“I don’t know, Zayn.” This fucker had the audacity to roll his eyes at him. “How about the fact you have a boyfriend to whom, I bet, you will return later today, saying the exact same words. Bit hypocritical, innit?”

“I… what?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb, Zayn. _For a loved one_? _One and only_? Freaking _Forever and always_? That are orders for a lover. I guess it’s my fault too. I was in denial so long, thought, hey maybe he just gives them to this sister or summat. Of course that only worked until I saw you two.”

“Liam Payne, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” With a huff, Zayn crossed his arms in front of his naked chest.

Liam’s face turned a concerning shade of red, before he exploded. “I am talking about your boyfriend, Zayn!”

Okay, two could play this game. Throwing his hands in the air, Zayn shouted back. “What boyfriend?!”

“Short, curvy, puffy hair and clothes even fancier than yours? Ring a bell?”

For a few seconds, Zayn could only stare. Then he burst out laughing. “Louis? You think Louis is my boyfriend?”

Liam tilted his chin upwards, giving a short nod.

“Oh my god.” Zayn broke into another fit of laughter. “Liam - Li - Liam - no. Like... hell, no! Louis is my boss. He instructed me to order the bouquets. They are not for or from me. No idea what he does with them. I don’t - I don’t have a boyfriend, Liam.”

Seeing the realisation dawn on Liam’s face was almost better than seeing him come. Speaking of which…

“Fuck, I love _you_ , you enormous dork. Only you.” Zayn didn’t wait for Liam’s answer, just kissed him instead. When Zayn let go of him, Liam looked like a lost puppy. He was all big eyes staring into the distance, lips forming a pout, a tiny crease between his eyebrows. “You…”

“... don’t have a boyfriend.” Zayn finished the sentence for him, producing a jubilant smile of his own.

“You don’t…”

“Nope.”

“Oh god.” Groaning, Liam buried his face in his hands. “I’m such a potato.”

“But a sexy potato.” Zayn laughed, nuzzling his head against Liam’s shoulder.

Liam let out another groan. “It shouldn’t even be possible for that to turn me on.”

“Oh, you’re turned on then?” The change in Zayn’s voice was effortless, his hand creeping up Liam’s thigh. Liam leaned into the touch only for a moment, before he pulled away, shaking his head. “No, we should get dressed. I need to talk to, Niall.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Liam grinned. “Wait at the rhododendrons for me.”

*

Liam returned from the conversation with Niall with a satisfied smile on his face.

“I talked him out of the therapy sessions.”

“That’s great, honey.” Zayn batted his eyelashes, coaxing a small giggle from the other man. Pecking him on the cheek, Zayn took his hand. Because he could do that now, ha!

Liam beamed at him, before he rubbed his free hand over the back of his head. "Uh, where to?"

"My flat." Zayn motioned towards his trousers, that were held together by a string of plant cord. "I need a change of clothes, my toothbrush and coffee. After that I'm taking you out for breakfast."

Zayn didn't miss the brightness in Liam's eyes, when he intertwined their fingers.

"Sounds good."

 _I love you_ , Zayn thought.

*

Zayn really had planned to take Liam out after his change of clothes. But unfortunately they didn’t made it farther than the door of Zayn's flat. Zayn thanked all the gods that Danny and Ant would spend the weekend in Bradford.

He let out a moan, when Liam pushed him back against the door, rutting their hips together.

"Bedroom." Zayn panted. "The last door."

Liam picked him up, Zayn wrapping his legs around his waist, and carried him into the bedroom, lying him down on the bed.

They stripped out of their clothes quickly, Zayn retrieving condoms and lube from the bedside table, while Liam shimmied out of his briefs.

“Zayn.”

“Mhm?” Zayn looked up to find Liam staring at him, eyes wide, mouth slightly ajar. He was about to ask what was wrong, when Liam’s expression seemed to melt, his eyelids drooping halfway closed, lips curling into a soft smile.

*

Their first time had been all about getting off. This though, Liam figured, this was about making love.

So he moved slowly, settling himself between Zayn's legs, a clear plan in mind what he wanted to do. He started with Zayn's right hand, peppering each of the fingers with sweet little kisses, before moving up, tracing the outlines if the ink on the other's arm with his tongue. Zayn writhed under the touches, letting out small gasps and moans. As soon as Liam was done with the right arm, he repeated the whole procedure with the left arm, before moving on Zayn's neck, sucking a rather humongous mark just below Zayn's earlobe. "Oh my god, Liam."

Liam chuckled into the cinnamon-coloured skin, and resumed his task to cherish every inch of Zayn's body. After he was done with Zayn's face - coaxing a soft giggle out of the other man when he licked over his cheekbones - he moved on to the torso.

"So beautiful." Pressing Zayn's heaving chest down onto the duvet, Liam nosed along the clavicles, kissing and biting the skin around the nipples, while blindly groping for the lube. He uncapped the bottle with his thumb, squeezing some onto his palm and letting it run down his fingers. “Lift your ass for me, babe.”

Zayn complied with a affirmative hum and Liam started opening him up, inserting first one and then two fingers to widen Zayn’s hole. At the third finger, Zayn started to push back down on his hand letting out needy little moans and “C’mon, Liam, ‘m ready.”

Liam didn’t have to be told twice. Without further ado he flipped them around and pulled Zayn on top of him. Zayn laughed, hovering above him, balancing himself on his knees.

“You sure you wanna do this?” Liam had to ask. He had to.

Instead of an answer, Zayn just kissed him and wrapped a hand around Liam’s cock.

“I’m gonna ride you like a rollercoaster.”

Liam hadn’t got time to let out the partly scandalised partly humoured gasp, because in the next moment, Zayn lowered himself down on Liam and everything became tight wet heat after that.

*

Zayn was ready to doze off, the post-orgasmic haze lulling him to sleep, his legs and fingers tangled with Liam’s and the fabric of the duvet soft on his skin, when Liam suddenly began to talk, jolting Zayn back into consciousness.

“At first I thought you were making fun of me, you know?”

Zayn could’ve asked what Liam was talking about, but they both knew, that he knew, so he sat up instead. “Why the everlasting hell would you think that?”

“Have you looked at yourself in the mirror, Zayn?” Liam laughed, following him into a sitting position, but it sounded just a tad too forced. Zayn pressed his lips reassuringly against Liam’s, before he let the other man continue.

“It’s true. You’re like way way out of my league. So I couldn’t really believe it, when you didn’t stop flirting with me, teasing me, shit I nearly got hard every time you “showed me the way out” and your hand would rest so long on the small of my back. I told myself you were just being nice, that I was imagining things. And then, when you handed Louis the flowers, who looks like some kind of silvan god, I just… I thought, okay, okay, atleast you hadn’t gotten your hopes up, Payno. And it was fine, really. I thought the crush would go over. But my imagination nearly killed me the next day. I couldn’t face you again. So I sent Niall to bring you the flowers. I just couldn’t see you anymore, thinking you’d never be mine.” Liam’s voice got quiet towards the end, the last sentence barely more than a whisper.

“Liam.” Zayn shook his head, feeling his throat closing. “Liam.”

“I’m sorry, I…”

“No, Liam, look at me.” Determined Zayn enclosed Liam’s face with his hands and lifted the other man’s head, until Liam was forced to return his gaze. “Listen!”

Zayn took a deep breath, trying to recall all the words of the quote and bringing them into order, while Liam blinked at him expectantly, eyes sad.

Eventually Zayn was sure he’d get it right and spoke up: “ _Denn wir leben auf einem blauen Planet, der sich um einen Feuerball dreht, mit ‘nem Mond, der die Meere bewegt. Und du glaubst nicht an Wunder?_ ”

Liam’s lips curled downwards. “I don’t know what that means.”

Zayn smiled and pecked him on the lips. “You don’t have to. It’s german, a quote from a song actually.”

“Ohh. Translate it for me?”

 _I love you_ , Zayn thought and closed his eyes: “‘Cause we live on a planet of blue, orbiting a ball of fire, with a moon that moves oceans. And you don’t believe in wonders?” Without thinking about it, he added. “Maybe you are my wonder.”

All air was pressed out of his lungs when Liam tackled him onto the bed, littering his body with kisses and sweet promises of the days to come.

*

The call came two weeks later. Zayn was cuddling with his boyfriend - okay, maybe Zayn had become a bit obsessive with calling Liam his boyfriend, so that he even referred to him as that in his head by now, and if that was the case, than that was really nobody's business, thank you - on the couch in Liam's flat, Niall third-wheeling in the armchair beside them, clutching his beer and hollering at the screen, which was showing some footy match.

Zayn startled when he recognised the number on the screen.

"Babe, what's wrong?"

Zayn just shook his head and ignored the way Liam's eyes followed him, as he bolted up and ran onto the balcony.

Finger shaking, he pressed the green button. "Mr Tomlinson?"

"Malik." Louis voice sounded tired, but not necessarily unfriendly.

"Good evening, sir. How can I help you, sir?"

"Actually, I am going to help you."

"Uh... o-okay."

"I suggest you listen intently, because I have neither the patience nor the time to repeat myself."

Zayn swallowed. "I'm listening."

"Lovely. Now it has come to my attention, that you fulfil your task impeccably."

"Thanks, sir, I try.”

“Don’t interrupt me. Anyways, what I am saying is I want to upgrade you.”

Zayn was tempted to ask, but bit his tongue. Right, no interrupting.

“I’m offering you a job as my PA. My last assistant unfortunately had to... quit, so the job is free. Interested?”

Zayn’s mouth dropped open, the phone nearly slipping from his fingers.

“Mr Malik, are you still there?”

“I- yeah, no, I mean yes. YES! I’ll take it.”

“Wonderful. I’ll see you in my office tomorrow morning at eight.”

“I’ll be there.” Hell, he would be there at five am.

“Alright. Have a good evening, Malik.”

“Thanks, sir, you too.”

Louis just laughed bleakly in response. Zayn was about to hang up, when Louis spoke again.

“Oh and Malik?”

“Yes, sir?” Zayn grinned and waved through the vitreous wall indoors. Liam smiled and mouthed a silent _I love you_ in response, while Niall pretended to hang himself in the background.

“Remove the blonde streak. It’s horrendous.”

**_There’s a boy who brings me flowers_ **  
**_I wish that he would stay_ **

''Heeeeyyy.''

''Hey, love, how are we feeling today?''

''Quite well.'' Harry managed a smile that was only half a lie, so Louis awarded him with a quick kiss, rubbing his thumb over the soft skin behind Harry's ear, where his favourite curl had used to be. ''I brought you flowers.''

Harry's eyes lit up with excitement, like the flowers weren't a thing Louis had been doing every day for a month now.

''Do show.''

''Patience, Harold.'' Louis rolled his eyes with fake exasperation, but simultaneously unveiled the bouquet from behind his back.

''Lilacs!'' Beaming, Harry took the flowers from his hands, Louis deliberately ignoring the yellow tinge to his skin, and buried his nose in them. ''What do they mean?''

This was always Harry's favourite part of their game, so Louis drew it out, jumped up and swirled around the room, reciting what he remembered from his Drama-days. ''Ah, the meaning behind these flowers. What could it be, young Harold? Is it something terrifying? Is it horrible?''

In mock desperation Louis clutched his face with his hands, savouring the giddy giggle that escaped Harry's lips. Slowly Louis strut back to the bed, leaning forward, until his face was only inches from Harry's apart.

'' _First love_ '', he whispered and pressed a soft kiss to his boy's lips, ignoring the faint taste of Cytoxan and iron. ''Lilacs stand for 'First love'.''

Harry's eyes widened in delight, before they got watery. A single tear rolled down the younger boy's cheeks, as he looked down on the flowers, fingers pulling out single lilacs, working quickly, braiding them into a ring. When he was finished, Louis took the crown from him and placed it on top of Harry's head. For a moment, the image got detorted, was flashed over by another image, a younger version of his boy, grinning back at him, with a wild mop of chocolate curls still in place, skin a normal milky tone, lips bubble-gum pink, not blue. Louis blinked forcefully and shook his head lightly, the image disappearing as fast as it had come.

''Yes, a true flower prince'', he nodded and Harry beamed at him, intertwining their fingers.

''Thanks for the flowers, Lou.''

Still smiling Louis let himself be pulled onto the narrow hospital bed, settling easily into his position as the smaller spoon. They had never talked about it, but Louis knew, that Harry needed this. This one last thing, where the taller boy was in charge, this one thing that hadn't been taken away from him. Even if it was just that he could hold Louis and pretend he was still strong enough to protect him from thunderstorms and the possibility of a burglar. Even if they hadn't slept in the big bed in the bedroom of their big empty flat for almost four months now.

''You're welcome, Haz.'' _My first love. My one and only. My first and last love._

 

**Author's Note:**

> (dedicated to Dani [aka wankerville](http://wankerville.tumblr.com) send her some love)
> 
> Yellow chrysanthemums are flower language for 'Secret Admirer'.
> 
> The song Zayn is quoting from is called "Welt der Wunder" by Marteria, so you can check it out [here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xBD2ZFDFXto) if you want (even if you don't understand german, the video is still insanely pretty, haha) 
> 
> my tumblr: [acoustictommo](http://acoustictommo.tumblr.com)  
> Feedback means the world to me, whether you kudos or comment :)


End file.
